


Hell is But A Dream

by dljensengirl88



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Discipline, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dljensengirl88/pseuds/dljensengirl88
Summary: Road trips can be long. Jesse needed a nap. (From Season 2)





	Hell is But A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for Preacher. After watching and re-watching the show up through season 2 ep 3, my muse and I HAD to do something. So any mistakes are my own. Oh and WARNING: If you want to watch this show, but have not, the spoilers here are few but major.

His guilt over Eugene would not abate, no matter how many times he let Cassidy rant about some innocuous offense against his delicate vampirism or forcefully kissed Tulip until neither of them could breathe. The accidentally damned boy already followed Jesse throughout his waking life and now it seemed he would be haunted in the darkness of his dreams as well. It was when he closed his eyes that Jesse was reminded of his sin that paved the way to a life of crime next to the only woman who could carry that burden with him, the only woman who ever mattered.

Jesse closed his eyes and he was reminded. He opened them on the other side of waking and he was confronted. Now standing silently in the doorway of John Custer’s office, Jesse Custer listened to the catch of his own breath as the feeling of déjà vu washed over him again and again. His rapidly blinking eyes soon focused on the darkly clad figure seated at the familiar desk before him. Jesse’s breathing slowed as he saw his father.

The dark-haired man either did not yet know or chose not to acknowledge he had an audience. Jesse took in the sight of his father’s pastoral uniform, as pressed as it always was; his posture always poised and sure, even from behind. Jesse felt the familiarity and he realized that this had to be a Friday afternoon, the time his father would be in his study preparing the coming Sunday’s sermon. John’s right hand moved vigorously across unseen paper, the sound of light scratching emanating from the writing of a man deep in thought. Jesse’s muscle memory reminded him not to disturb the scene lest he get lectured and sent to do some undesired chore. His eyes, however, roamed the dark room. It, at least, was not what he remembered, a place of security and quiet strength and wisdom, the epitome of the man who inhabited it. Instead, contrary to that man who had somehow returned, his father’s office looked tired, as sallow as the skin of an old man on his death bed.

The mismatch of the images confused Jesse and finally he looked down at his own hands, the hands of an adult. So, this was not a memory within a dream. He was here. Then why did he feel like he was 12 again?

Jesse slid his hands down his chest as if wiping dirt from his palms when what he really wanted was to confirm his own presence. He looked down at the familiar touch of his clothing, noticing that he too was wearing the black of his pastoral uniform. His fingers crawled to the beard on his face.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself, but not quietly enough.

“Jesse!” his father thundered. The pen slammed to the desk as the man’s head whipped to the side. “What did I tell you about disturbing me at this time? And what did I just hear you say?”

Jesse’s head snapped to attention. “Shit,” he said to himself yet again before talking but not talking to his father. “You…you see me?”

John rose, his legs of his heavy chair stuttering across the wooden floor as he did so, his head hung as if in a prayer for patience, his shoulders hunched as he sighed deeply. Jesse knew that sigh. It may have been over two decades since he’d heard it aloud, but it came to him whenever he did anything he knew would have disappointed his stern father. Therefore, it came to him quite often. It was a sigh of frustration, of what-will-I-do-with-you-boy, of annoyance at having to teach his son yet another lesson, probably for the fifth time that month. Jesse shook the confusion from his head. Maybe this was just a dream, right? But even in a dream and even as a now-grown man, he knew it best not to be in his father’s reach.

“Daddy, I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I was just…”

“…just defiling your spirit with the vile words of the miscreants you call friends. You have to do better, Jesse,” John said as he turned to face his son, his fists clenching as he spoke, itching to reach for something. “People look to you. It’s important to set an example for others to learn from. You must be better.”

Jesse watched his father’s hands, not quite certain whether it was best to stand his ground as the man he now was or to kowtow to his inner child and get out of his father’s path. But there had to be a way out of this growing nightmare. It was, after all, despite the feeling in the pit of his stomach, just a dream. Maybe.

“I’m trying, Daddy. You are a lot to live up to, but I’m going to do the right thing. I promise you that.”

John’s eyes narrowed as he slowly began to walk toward his son. The slightest twitch touched the corner of his lips. “You promise?”

“Um, yes, sir. I promise,” Jesse vowed again, taking tiny hesitant steps backward as his father carefully advanced.

“Your language, Jesse. It is just not acceptable. Your behavior is not acceptable.”

Jesse wasn’t sure if the dream was of something he’d already experienced in the past or something altogether new. He searched his mind trying to recall what happened next. He’d certainly heard these words of chastisement many times before, so it could have gone either way, but a memory was not surfacing. “I’ve got to get out of this damned place,” he said to himself again, looking around himself now as he sought his exit.

“Jesse!” John bellowed, bringing his son’s attention back to him. “What did I JUST say, boy? Do you think you can just do what you want and it go unpunished?”

Jesse ceased his search, his eyes sliding back to his dad as a slow realization dawned. Did his father know what he had done in this very church on the waking side? “What did I do?” he probed carefully.

“And now you pretend not to remember?” John replied. “That’s not going to fly, son. Let me help you remember.”

John lunged before Jesse remembered to get out of the way. Grabbing Jesse’s arm, John tugged him from the doorway, clearing his way as John now pulled his startled son to another part of their church home. Jesse was too stunned to know what was happening, he only knew his father’s grip was literally death and no matter what he tried, he could not pry himself loose. “Da—Daddy! What are you doing? Let go!” Jesse shouted, trying and missing a grab at the doorjamb, seeking firm footing, instead clawing as walls as they went. Jesse’s hunt for leverage was failing. He did not want to know what _this_ father, his father, had in mind for him. He needed to wake up – now. Might he have his power even in this dream? “Stop!’ he cried out first in his own voice, wanting to not use his control if he could help it. His father continued to pull him through the sanctuary now and Jesse realized their possible destination. “Daddy, please! Don’t make me use it!”

John stopped short, causing Jesse to collide solidly into the very tangible-feeling figure currently tethered to him. John carefully tilted his head as he looked back at his son. “Use what, Jesse?” he asked slowly. _He knows,_ Jesse realized, his eyes widening at the thought. His father knew what he had been doing while he was alive on Earth and his father was…here.

“You’ve got to let me go now, Daddy,” he replied quietly. “Or else…”

“Or else? You’ll use that _gift_ you’ve got,” John answered mockingly.

Jesse could hear the jeer in his dad’s voice and he did not like it one bit. He straightened just a little. “Genesis is a gift, Daddy. God gave it to me.”

“God?” John chuckled.

“Yes!” Jesse quickly responded, still trying fruitlessly to extricate himself from his father’s hand. “I was going to do what you couldn’t. What I promised you I would do!” Jesse shrieked back, more determined than ever to get away.

“Promised me?” came John’s controlled reply. The circumstances of that promise came flooding back to Jesse, drowning his bravado and drenching him in guilt anew. “You mean the promise you made me while you watched your prayer get answered?”

Jesse closed his eyes. It was too much. To be confronted so directly with his sin and the consequence of his action. He’d spent his life running from the truth of it, but when he and Tulip lost their child, he knew immediately that he was being punished. He couldn’t run anymore. He needed to honor his father if he ever hoped to redeem himself and have a chance at a good life with his girl. That was when he went back to his father’s church to make good on that promise. But his demons plagued him still.

Overwhelmed, Jesse really needed to leave. He once again sought his exit.

“What are you looking for,” John asked. “Are you expecting Tulip to come save you? Or you still hoping she’ll return from the state home I sent her to?”

Jesse looked back at his father in disbelief. He assumed his father must have still thought he held a 12-year-old in his grasp. The feeling of that time stormed back. “You took her from me,” Jesse seethed. “I was good, Daddy. Tulip was good…mostly. She tried. But that didn’t matter to you, did it?”

John straightened at that accusation, but it did not pierce the armor of his morality. “She is an O’Hare, Jesse,” he replied, turning to continue their march. “There is always trouble with them. Look at you,” John hissed, pausing a moment to face his son again. “Look where you are. You are infected with that demonic parasite and you _like_ it? You are traipsing across the south with a monster and…her.” John’s stare bore into Jesse now who was dizzy with the sins of his past and present all churning within his father’s speech and throwing Jesse off his game. “You condemned an innocent,” John reminded him.

“He wasn’t innocent!” Jesse threw back, defending himself.

“Yes, Jesse!” John shouted before calming himself again, his eyes softening. “Yes, Jesse. He was.” Jesse searched his mind, trying to match what he knew with what his father was now saying, but it remained incongruent and he could say nothing as he simply stared back, his strength lost.

“You are on a dangerous road, son. Can you not understand that I only ever wanted to help you fulfill your destiny?”

“Genesis _is_ my destiny, Daddy. Why can’t _you_ understand _that_?”

John sighed his disappointed sigh and shook his head. “I just have to teach you,” he decided, turning once again to pull his son to the lesson he needed to deliver. “You have to learn. You need to be redeemed and I have to help you because I love you, Jesse.”

The profession of his father’s love now fully rendered Jesse silent. He’d couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard father say this. He only knew it was rare and he realized it scared him all the more. The situation was all too uncertain for him now. He could not be sure what he was dealing with and it was pointless to argue further. He would have run to get back to the land of the living, but this father clearly overpowered him here and while he continued to dig deep inside himself, he found he could not conjure the power within to aid him in his escape. He did not know if the dream – or whatever this was – had rendered Genesis dormant or if it was simply not there now, but his only method of defense was not at his disposal after all. He had no choice but to submit himself to the fate his father was bestowing upon him.

He found himself being led back through the kitchen, to the cluster of small rooms all the way at the back of the church. His bedroom was there and he’d bet all the coins in Vegas that his childhood bedroom was back to the way it had been when he was 12. He would have hit the jackpot.

“You don’t need to do this, Daddy,” Jesse tried as his father pushed him into the room and finally released him, now looming in a doorway of his own. Jesse stepped back as far he could, rubbing his arm and closing his eyes yet again as if that was all he needed to do to wake up again. He heard the familiar clink of a belt buckle.

At that, Jesse gulped, recalling his father’s stamina and the relentless sting of the belt John often used to correct his too-often errant child. He really didn’t think he wanted to relive that particular part of his childhood, but he assumed the only way out was through.

“Let’s get this done, son,” John said with a hint of the patience he often employed before disciplining his son lest his wrath get the best of him.

Jesse opened his eyes to reveal that he was still very much in the bedroom of his youth. He licked his lips as he gave one last thought to trying to escape, but all he felt was the heaviness of the air holding him here in this moment. He quirked his lips knowing what his father was waiting for until it hit him. Maybe this was God. Maybe he was being given the opportunity to purge his guilt at the hand of at least one of the people he had wronged and thus he _did_ deserve this after all. The sadness within him began to grow and he wanted nothing more now than to accept his punishment for calling down death on his father in the first place.

“Jesse, I’m waiting,” John said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” Jesse replied, turning to place his palms on his bed.

“Not this time, son,” John said. Jesse turned back around, confused. “Do you not think this warrants the _full_ treatment?”

Jesse’s face fell as he remembered. There had been levels to his offenses, but his father never told him what level he was on. He expected him to know and to act accordingly. He expected it because Jesse always knew. “Of course,” Jesse admitted. “I’m…I’m sorry. I forgot.”

This was indeed the greatest level there was, maybe higher than he’d ever been on, but he could only hope that his usual position would do the trick because he did not know what more he could give.

Jesse turned back to the bed, this time taking in the metallic clink of his own belt as his undid his pants and let them fall to the floor. He would not bother asking. He knew to lower his fitted briefs as well because he knew with his greatest offenses came the shame of bearing himself to his dad, his spiritual father as well, to receive his greatest punishment.

In those times, Jesse had known to prepare himself for a long session of being whipped until he begged for mercy and forgiveness, first from his earthly father, then he was made to petition his heavenly one as well. And since Jesse normally bore the punishments in stubborn, grunted silence, it would take John a little while to tear those pleas from his son’s lips.

The last spanking Jesse had received was at the amorous hands of his Tulip, and she could lay it on pretty thick too, but he could no longer be certain of his ability to withstand what his father was capable of dishing out now. This was not like the beat downs he could handle in a hand-to-hand battle with some mortal enemy. This was the father he knew he had wronged who knew in turn that Jesse had wronged someone else and this was deserved.

Jesse licked his lips before bending back over the bed, his palms on the scratchy blanket, cool air crossing his naked skin. He breathed deeply as he hung his head, a sign to his father that he was ready.

John nodded in response, tightening his grip on the waiting belt in his hand. “This is going to hurt you more than it does me, Jesse.”

Jesse nodded. “Yes, sir. It already does.”

The lick of the belt was not what he remembered. He had been able to stand it for a time before. He had prided himself on his 12-year-old ability to take it like a man, even when his dad added humiliation by whipping him in front of his friends, in front of Tulip, that day behind the church. It was her uncharacteristic care for him afterward and her threat to flatten anyone who laughed at him that had sealed his yet unrealized love for her that day. After all, she had surmised, it wasn’t his fault that his dad was a dick. God had made him that way.

The next flick of the leather scattered his memories and Jesse heard himself cry out too soon. But why was he surprised? He knew his father had grown stronger in this place when he had been unable to rip himself from his hand before. But not knowing his strength meant Jesse would be unable to brace himself for what was to come, and he knew what was to come would be relentless. That much would be unchanged.

John held firm as he redeemed his son. His arm knew no fatigue as he landed strike after strike upon his son’s reddening flesh. He was in a zone and Jesse would not know relief for some time. The sound of the belt falling upon Jesse’s naked ass resounded in a new way as well. In between the vicious stings, he was amazed at just how deeply he felt the stripes, and he wondered if a person who died in their dream and truly died in life, did that mean he would wake up with evidence from his father’s punishment? How would he explain that to Tulip? Cass even?

Again, his thoughts were sent running from his mind as the belt brought him back to his current place and he felt his arms starting to weaken already as he sought to hide from the next strike. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.” Jesse could only repeat his sorrow to the steady rhythm of the belt. How much longer would It be?

“I know you are, Jesse,” John replied, keeping the belt in play. As Jesse began to fall closer to the bed, John had drawn closer too, not letting up just yet. “You have to remember, son.”

Jesse could not find stoicism. It had deserted him. He cried out this time as his words began to fail him and all he could do was let his inner child wail at the whipping he was deservedly receiving. John had grabbed him again when he did finally try to get out of the way of that damned belt.

“Please, Daddy! I swear to you I did not mean for you to die! I didn’t mean for Eugene to go to Hell! I’m sorry,” he finally begged. “I’m sorry,” he wailed into the bed as his father now held him down. “Please, no more.” Jesse could not imagine he was not bleeding by now, his skin shredded by the leather. But he also knew his father was a master at these beatings. He knew how to get the most out of his son without leaving more than welts on his skin to remind him for days of the lesson he had been taught. There was no way he’d literally beat him raw…was there?

Jesse’s words had finally left him altogether as he simply succumbed to the whipping, feeling the pressure of his father’s heavy hand on his back as even his cries were torn from him by the belt that first seared his behind, then his thighs as he meekly fought. At last, when all John could get was whimpering and Jesse was finally done fighting, he relented.

“Jesse?” John called, running his hand once up and down Jesse’s back to tell him he was done. Except Jesse must have hidden himself in some mental place because he did not respond right away.

“Jesse,” John called more firmly this time, rousing the wilted man.

Jesse didn’t try to hide the tears on his face or the snot lingering at his nose. He didn’t try to be brave or strong or even the man he was. He was indeed raw and looked up to his father, realizing he was no longer under his weight. He breathed as he carefully stood before the minister, his hands listless at his sides, not even bothering to reach for his clothes. He was naked but ashamed of his actions. He wouldn’t move unless he was told to.

“Do you repent?” John asked, placing a loving hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” Jesse breathed out immediately. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Please forgive me. Please.” Jesse felt tears building up again, but he was too far gone to stop them. He could only see the blurry figure of his father, who had dropped the belt and was now holding his son’s head in his hands.

“I do, son. You were a child,” John said to the man before him. “You had a child’s anger and prayed an angry child’s prayer. I understand and I forgive you.”

Jesse huffed in relief as his tears continued to flow. He grabbed his father’s arms in gratitude as his father continued to stroke the sides of his head. “You have my forgiveness now, Jesse. You know whose you need now.”

Jesse nodded quickly, whispering, “Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Fix yourself, Jesse.” And Jesse nodded again as his father released him to pull his clothes back on. Jesse sniffled loudly, his senses starting to return and his pride along with it, but not all at once. Not before he did what came next.

“You know what to do, son,” John urged him, stepping back to give Jesse room.

Jesse wiped his nose on his sleeve, still not caring about the look of it all. “Yes, sir,” he replied. For all his father’s faults, he knew the man did not judge him in this state. Jesse breathed in and out as he tried to clear his eyes of the wetness and regain his composure. He looked over at his father one more time to silently apologize.

John nodded to him, then to the floor.

Jesse knelt before the bed, clasping his hands and closing his eyes. “Dear God,” he began, suddenly feeling himself lurch.

“What? I’m not thwat bad of a dwiver,” Eugene said to his startled passenger.

“Dear God,” Jesse gushed. “What the hell?” He looked over at Eugene where Tulip should have been. He was blinded by the light of the day as they moved in Tulip’s car across whatever state there were in, then he remembered, swinging back to see if Cassidy was in the back seat.

“No one’s sthere,” Eugene assured. “Jus’ us.”

Jesse whipped back around, pressing his back against the door as he took in Eugene fully. “Am I still dreaming?” he asked.

“Are you thsure you were dreamin’?” Eugene asked gently.

Jesse looked confused for a moment before his pained flesh responded to the question as if he were slowly coming back to life.

“Ah! Owwww!” Jesse said in shock. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” He grabbed the door with one hand, the dashboard with the other lifting himself up, trying to relieve the pain growing under his blistered ass.

“Your fodder was a sthwict one, huh?” Eugene said in sympathy.

“Yes,” Jesse hissed. “My father was strict.” He hissed again.

“I get it,” Eugene said. “Before the ax-ident, my dad was too.” Eugene looked away, casting his eyes back to the road wistfully. “After the ax-ident, he was jus’…sad,” he finished.

Jesse looked over at the pained boy as he tried to mitigate his own pain.

“I’ll bet he’s sooper sad now, huh?” Eugene asked, looking back to Jesse. “Now that I’m in Hell?”

Jesse breathed in his shame, falling back to his raw behind and not caring about the pain it sent through him. “Eugene,” he gushed. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear it. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’ chu?” Eugene gave back.

Jesse parted his lips and blinked but no sound came out.

“I mean,” Eugene continued, “Is’thent that at least partly why your fodder beat your ass?”

Jesse sighed deeply, twisting his lips in annoyance and embarrassment. Apparently, word spread quickly in these parts.

“Yeah,” he agreed sullenly. “It was at least partly why my daddy beat my ass.” He grimaced as his ass responded in kind with a now dull throbbing.

The pair drove in silence for a while through the greyish purple tint of this world until Jesse finally shoved his pride aside. “Forgive me, Eugene. Please. I won’t leave you here. I swear.”

Eugene smiled his askew smile. “I know, Preather. I know you hasn’t forgotten me. It’s ok.”

Jesse nodded with a slight smile of his own. “Thank you, Eugene.”

“Eugene?” Tulip shot back. “Jesse? You dreamin’ over there?”

Jesse blinked in the sun, the real sun this time. He looked over at Tulip as if he were coming out of a fog. He rubbed his eyes, catching Cassidy’s worried look in the rearview mirror. “Huh,” he breathed in relief. Home with the ones he loved once again.

“What’s wrong with you, Jesse?”

“Uh, nothing,” Jesse replied, shifting in his seat to lean back since he could finally, finally relax. The rub against the carseat brought an unexpected pain back to life. He hissed.

“You sure you’re a’right?” Cassidy asked with concern from the backseat.

“Yeah. Yeah, Cass. I’m fine. Thanks.” He gave his friend a weak smile in the mirror and watched as the vampire nodded and went back to lighting his well-worn joint. Tulip would not be so easily convinced.

“You _sounded_ like you were having one hell of a dream there, Jesse Custer,” she informed him. Jesse grew red.

“What?” he asked alarmed, sitting back up quickly causing Tulip to cast a suspicious eye on him while keeping an eye on the road.

Jesse looked back at Cass who seemingly hadn’t noticed the fuss. Jesse quickly calmed himself. “Um, what…what did I, uh say? In my dream?”

“Well,” Tulip started slowly, still looking like a snake might bite her. “You didn’t say anything exactly. You were just making these noises. Sounded like you mighta been fightin’ with somebody.” Tulip relaxed again as she looked back at the road before looking back at Jesse. “You fightin’ somebody in your dream, Jesse?”

Jesse scratched his head to cover the slight embarrassment he was feeling.

“Who were you dreaming about,” Tulip asked softly, wanting to know but not wanting to pry too much.

Jesse wrapped his arms around himself. He rarely lied to Tulip. It was pointless. After all, she had been there while he developed his tells. “My daddy,” he confessed.

Tulip mouthed a silent “oh” in response. She understood, as Jesse knew she would. Shifting in her seat, she took control of the wheel with her right hand, locking her arm in place for a time. She chewed her lip before looking back to her boyfriend.

“Was he ok?” was all she could ask.

Jesse nodded.  
  
"Are _you_ ok?" she tried again.

Jesse looked over at his Tulip, ignoring the now-dull pain in his rear, and gave her a reassuring smile. She softened at his glance. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything will be alright, Babe. You just watch the road.”


End file.
